


Another Leather Jacket Love Song

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Teenchesters, Weechester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's solace in Dean's leather jacket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Leather Jacket Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> Sexual content between 14y/o Sam and 18y/o Dean. Otherwise consensual.

When Sam is twelve, he watches Dean and Dad kill a demon. Well, almost. He's left in the car, hands clinging to the leather so he can peer out the window. Sam can't actually see anything once Dean and Dad are past the thicket of trees, and he hears a single gunshot before there's silence. For a long while, Sam's heart beats in erratic patterns and he's ready to open the door and run.

Then his cell phone rings and he dives on it, a short text message from Dean that says  _o_ _kay, back soon_. Sam doesn't fully relax, never does when Dean isn't there, but he does drop down from the window and curl up in the back seat. Dad's left his jacket there. Smelling faintly of gun smoke and axle grease. Sam pulls it against his chest, breathes it in, and waits for the family to be okay again.

 

* * *

 

Sam's at his sixth high school of the year. Dad's gone on almost like a hunting  _binge_ , finding every evil creature he can. The one plus side — the  _only_ plus-side — of him doing this during the school year is that Dean's around and not on a hunt with him. Dad leaves them at a motel Sam thinks might be  _worse_ than any others they've stayed at in the past, drives them to school on the first day, and then he's gone. Dean mutters something about a ghost in Washington, but Sam hardly cares about the details. He attends school, goes through the needed motions, then meets up with Dean at the end of the day and they walk home together. 

Sometimes, when nobody else is around, Dean will drape an arm over Sam's shoulders and draw him closer. Dean's wearing the leather jacket that has somehow become his now. Sam presses his face against it and can forget about everything else.

Back at the motel, Sam finishes all his homework while Dean veges out and watches some 80s sitcom that plays constantly on syndication. Most of the time, he yells to Sam how lame the jokes are. But Sam always finds him sitting on the couch, glued to the screen, when he wanders in from their tiny bedroom.

"Who even  _says_ that?" Dean's saying to the TV set. He must hear Sam's footsteps, because he throws his head over the couch and catches eyes with Sam. "Hey man, you hungry?"

Sam doesn't say anything. He rounds the couch and drops to his knees in front of Dean. Watching Dean's eyes change from annoyance about the TV show to recognition about what Sam's going to do is one of the best looks Sam can get from his brother. Wordlessly, he pushes Dean's jacket out of the way and undoes his belt, pulling it from the loops before setting to work at the zipper. Dean's already hard, the outline visible through the denim of his jeans, and Sam traces his free hand over the shape.

"Sam..."

Sam looks up and locks his eyes on Dean's. "Yeah?"

One of Dean's hands runs through Sam's hair, tugging very gently at the ends. "You're beautiful."

"You really want this blowjob, huh?"

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Sam misses Dad so much it hurts. He never wants to admit it and hates himself for feeling that way, but it wells up inside and explodes in dry, choked sobs that Dean always hears.

"Hey. Sammy." He pulls Sam flat against his chest. Squeezes him tight.

Sam buries his face in Dean's jacket and thinks it might help just the littlest bit.

 

* * *

 

Dad extends his hunt another week and it's almost Christmas. School's out, but if it wasn't they'd be on continuous snow days. The radiator in the conks out early on and the owner does nothing but let them borrow a space heater for no extra cost. Apparently that makes him generous and negates Sam and Dean's right to complain.

They spend most of their time in the bed away. Twisted around each other and trying to find heat with their bodies. Dean says that's what you're supposed to do; the correct treatment for hypothermia. Sam agrees, but silently knows his brother is thinking more with his dick than his brain. Regardless, there's still only so much heat two freezing people can give off.

"Cold," Sam murmurs, then wishes he hadn't because he doesn't want to guilt trip his brother.

Instead, Dean presses a finger softly to his lips and pulls his jacket over them. "Better?"

Sam nods and presses the tips of his fingers to Dean's face, giving a small grin when Dean winces back. He knows they're halfway frozen. Still, Dean doesn't move very far and his legs stay entwined with Sam's. His cock is pressing against Sam's thigh and Sam decides to test his luck, gives a little thrust. Dean hisses out through his teeth, and Sam takes that as a good response. He does it again.

"Gonna kill me, Sammy," Dean says against his ear. His breath is hot, perfect.

"Better than freezing to death," Sam says. He pulls the jacket up higher and snuggles closer to Dean. On top of the old smells, there's Dean. Everything his brother smells like, condensed.

"Mmm," Dean agrees, then kisses Sam.

Sam loves it like this, even if it is freezing cold and he's having a hard time feeling his fingers and toes. Like this, Dean just keeps kissing him and holding their bodies together and that's all Sam really wants. He wraps the jacket tighter around them, coating them in the leather while Dean keeps kissing him and kissing him, leaving Sam dizzy and always wanting more.

Sam starts moving his leg against Dean's cock until Dean groans and reaches down a hand. It's even colder than Sam's, and Sam lets out a little yelp that's swallowed by Dean's mouth. Before Sam can compose himself again, Dean takes both their cocks in his hand. He jerks them fast, messy, because they'll have time to do this again and again today, and Dean's never understood the idea of  _savouring_ things. Tells Sam there's no need to savour when you're never go to be without, and Sam can't argue with that.

With a final twist of Dean's wrist, Sam comes with a cry of his brother's name and Dean soon follows with a cut-off, throaty moan. They lie there, just like always, and it's not so cold anymore with the two of them and a jacket thrown over the top.


End file.
